


Runaway

by CastielsLieutenant



Series: Playlist Pages [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1529732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsLieutenant/pseuds/CastielsLieutenant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jo Harvelle realises who she truly is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Runaway

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Bon Jovi song, Runaway.

Jo knew she wasn't cut out for this life. Serving drinks behind her mother's bar wasn't what she envisioned for her life and when Dean Winchester blew in through the door, her mind was made up. He was everything that her mother had warned her away from and everything she knew she would never have; bad attitude, black leather and a hell-bent stubborn streak. The eldest son of John Winchester, a legend in his own right and now his boys were living up to the name.

John Winchester. Her mother never talked about him much, safe to say that she never went into too much detail as to what transpired between him and her father. Because, just like Dean, Jo wanted to be what her father expected. What he wanted, a child he could be proud of. Because she saw that in Dean. The aching need to be wanted, to be  _needed_ . Sad as it was, Jo knew that his baby – er, more like  _moose_ of a – brother was fast outgrowing his dependency on the green-eyed, freckle-faced hunter.

Children of hunters always got it the worst, Jo figured, as she cleaned up the spillages on the bar as the last of patrons disappeared for the night. You were either expected to be even better than your parents, or mollycoddled beyond belief. With her father gone, Jo had fallen into the latter category. Her pleas to go out on hunts had fallen on deaf ears, her mother strictly ensuring that her precious (the term gave Jo a sour taste in her mouth) girl was safe. Working at the bar didn't count. Talking to the Winchester boys didn't count. Being the daughter of a well-known hunter  _didn't count_ .

Nothing ever counted in her favour.

Jo flicked the lights off and stood in the semi-darkness, the light from the neon signs outside throwing dim, eerie light into the room. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, folding her arms.  _Dean_ . He was on her mind – not surprisingly, she thought. He was a good-looking guy, definitely got the pretty genes in the family. Too bad he'd got the mouth, too. She almost thought he'd been about to hit on her, once. Normally, she would have rebuffed him. Just another pretty boy hunter with somewhere else to go. But he'd changed tactic with her and left her with this ache, this... terrible unknown inside. He never called and if he did, it was never her. It was Ash, or her mother.

She felt the shiver down her spine. She'd show him. She'd show them all. She was Jo Harvelle; daughter of William Harvelle. There was more to her than any of them saw. Her hand strayed to her belt, felt the outline of the iron blade that was strapped there, out of sight. Her ears picked up the soft snore that was Ash asleep on the pool table and drunk as a skunk. The idea clinked quietly into place in her mind and took little time to be decided upon.

A few minutes of careful research and she knew where the Winchesters were heading next. Slipping outside, Jo located an abandoned pick-up owned by a regular that had hitched a ride home rather than driving drunk. Jo knew how to hot-wire a car – every hunter did. The engine was humming to life under her careful ministrations. Sliding into the cab, she settled her hands over the wheel. She looked back at the roadhouse. She knew she should feel bad. She knew as a dutiful daughter, she ought to kill the gas, climb out and go back inside.

As she sped out of the parking lot to catch up with the Winchesters, Joanna Beth Harvelle also knew she couldn't really give a  _damn_ about should, ought or any of that crap.

What she knew was that she was a hunter. Born and bred.

 


End file.
